


The Closet Wives

by UniquelyQueer_67



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comedy, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, F/F, M/M, Minor Canonical Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Multiple Crossovers, Mutual Pining, Not Epilogue Compliant, Original Character(s), Pining, Sneaking Around, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, This Is STUPID, Time Shenanigans, Weird Plot Shit, What Have I Done, at least i hope so, whatever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2019-10-26 23:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17755811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniquelyQueer_67/pseuds/UniquelyQueer_67
Summary: Mary has a predicament on her hands and needs someone to talk to because APPARENTLY all of her 'friends' hate her. It's a good thing she has a very old, very real friend who might be able to help her out (I know what you're thinking, it's not that convenient).(rated teen for cussing)#THIS FIC HAS BEEN MOMENTARILY ABANDONED FOR OTHER STUFF, DO NOT EXPECT REGULAR UPDATES#





	1. Revelations

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Mary blurted, letting out a frustrated yowl. John had neglected,  _again_ , to pick up Rose from play group. John hadn't pulled up to the house, so that sweet child had probably been there for nearly an  _hour_ waiting to be picked up. _Poor lamb_ , Mary lamented as she started the car. 

it had been so difficult since Mary had gotten out of the hospital. She'd been shot, so she had to stay there for bloody _weeks_ , of course. By the time she got out, John had moved back into 221B and Sherlock was helping look after the baby.  _Sherlock!?_   But, John still moved right back in with Mary (Rose too) once she was released. Or, at least, he was  _supposed_ to have moved back in. But you'd never know it from the way he spent  _all_ his time up that  _bloody flat!_   

 

> _Sorry, love. On a case, only just realised the time._

Mary threw her phone back into the passenger seat without replying to the text. She pulled up to the nursery and marched in through the doors with the same look on her face that made mob bosses whimper. 

"Oh, sorry, Mary. She's not here, she was picked up around an hour ago." the receptionist smiled courteously and Mary saw red.

The drive to Scotland Yard was a blur, but the minute she stepped through those doors, she was taken to Lestrade by a cowering PC. She burst through his office doors and the DI quickly pulled his feet off of his desk and threw his chocolate muffin in the bin.

"Mrs Watson!" he stumbled to his feet to take the woman's hand. 

Mary wasn't in the mood for niceties.

"Where the hell are my Husband and my daughter?" she snapped. Lestrade bit his bottom lip and took a long swig of his coffee before answering.

"Morgue, with Molly." Mary nodded curtly and slammed all the doors between her and her car with so much force the glass rattled.

 

She eventually got into the morgue, silently swinging the door open on an exhale that would've preceded a long row if it hadn't turned into a gasp. She saw john, with Rose on his lap. Sherlock was mixing a few chemicals together and all three watched with bated breath as the mixture bubbled and fizzed. Then, Rose let out a squeal and burst out laughing. The solution had started foaming and then exploded into a rainbow of fluff that got all over the three of them. Mary felt her heart sink as she watched the toddler pick up a handful of foam and squash it onto Sherlock's chin, where he then pretended it was a goatee. Rose giggled, and John chuckled, leaving the comment, "You're not really keeping that, are you?"

Sherlock smiled and the two locked eyes for a minute. It was a fleeting thing, tiny, virtually unnoticeable in passing and quickly interrupted by a particularly loud squeak from Rose. Mary had seen it before so many times on them, but there was something about the adrenaline and the anger in her today that focused her mind. For the first time she saw something indescribable in that exchange. She saw devotion, and loyalty, and something fragile, and tender.

They were all laughing and smiling and Mary was an idiot. She suddenly remembered reading all those drafts of John's blog entries. The ones her husband never posted. He didn't even want  _her_ reading them, then he changed his password. Mary didn't bother to hack into the account again.

"Oh, for fuck's sake..." she muttered dejectedly from the doorway. Mrs Watson did a lot of thinking on that drive home. She made a lot of phone calls too, once she got home.

Mycroft said it was so obvious a child would've guessed. But that it didn't make him any less disgusted.

Lestrade said that the yard had a pool going. They both laughed a lot about the whole ordeal. Mary bet £70.

Anderson said it was the reason Sherlock came back.

Sally said it made her want to vomit, but who was she to say anything to the freak?

Molly sighed. She just said, "I know."

She even contacted Irene Adler, who laughed whole-heartedly, said "Duh.", then hung up.

Mary called a few of the pair's clients. They mostly just said they wouldn't be surprised.

Finally, she gave Mrs Hudson a ring,

"Oh I know, dear! If it's any consolation, the wedding cake was lovely."

 

 _Well_ , Mary supposed,  _I'll just have to adjust to my husband being in love with his best man, then._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know whether this is a pile of utter dogshit or a work of pure genius but I'm WRITING IT ANYWAY!!!!


	2. Crossing Old Bridges

And that's where the story  _should_ end.

With Mary Watson either telling her husband that she knows about his secret affair with his not-flatmate/work colleague and attending their wedding the next month, or not telling him and having a blissful marriage with a man who shags the godfather of their child. But there's just one problem there...

_Neither one of the daft buggers know how they feel!!_

Mary was at a loss as she lay alone in bed that night (husband on another bloody case). Rose was in the next room sleeping soundly. Mary thought of how her daughter looked that day in the morgue. She still saw how happy that child was with John, with Sherlock...

"Right." her voice was sure, but a whisper in the dark as she reached to the bedside cabinet in search of her phone. She scrolled through her contacts, Mary knew who she was going to call.

She listened to the phone as the dial tone sounded in her ear, until someone picked up.

"Hi! Yeah, I'm alright. Daughter's asleep, so keep it down. Listen, do you still work for that organisation?" A pause, "No, no, the one that takes mail describing people's problems? And then they- yeah that one, do you still work for them?"

He confirmed that yes, he was still in contact with the company, and would gladly listen to any grievances that Mary had. It all seemed rather sketchy, but Mary knew him and the company were reputable, so she told him the whole story. But, most importantly, she wanted to help. Because Mary might always be haunted by her past, but at least with Sherlock, both Rose and John can be safe. In fact, now that she thought about it, Mary just wanted John to be happy; and if Sherlock was more able to provide that than she was, Mary didn't really have any right to protest.

She hung up the phone, and waited as the company sent through the details of the people Mary should contact. The company was a sort of support group service, in which they put clients in touch with people of similar circumstances, and provide them with a support network, someone who can relate to and sympathise with them. Mary was expecting maybe some phone numbers, or email addresses, maybe even links to social media.

What she wasn't expecting, was for a text from a blocked number to appear on her phone, stating the name of the company, along with a date, time, and address. Just as Mary reached the conclusion that this was a rendezvous, another message came through. Pictures of two women, one with fiery red hair and pale, the other woman having curlier, darker hair and a darker complexion. Pictures taken from the neck up, almost in the style of passport or driver's license photos. 

 _Mmm, bit weird..._ Mary thought, but she trusted her contact. Besides, she'd just bring her gun, just in case things got a bit dicey.

Locking her phone, Mrs Mary Watson settled down for bed once again, with the rendezvous details safe in her calendar as "Coffee with Sarah".

She slept soundly until John trudged through the door. At  _four in the morning._   

 _He'd better be bloody grateful for this,_ Mary grumbled inaudibly.


	3. The Rendezvous

Mary wore her favourite blouse to the cafe, in which she was supposedly meeting two women with sexually repressed husbands, who were in love with their equally sexually repressed flatmates (or something like that). She also had her favourite gun tucked away in her least ugly handbag, along with her phone and some other bits.

John had dropped her off on his way to the clinic this morning, which meant Mary was almost a whole hour early, but it made the whole thing less suspicious if John knew where she was going, and it also meant there was no way that any of the women would already be at the cafe for him to see. Finally, it ensured that John wouldn't happen upon the cafe on a case, or on his way from work or something, everything had worked out perfectly.

With no contact information through which to inform the two nameless women that she'd arrived, Mary entered the place, ordered a mocha, then waited.

The first woman arrived just five minutes late. The dark-haired woman looked around a bit, spotted Mary, then waved with what had to be the sweetest and most adorably charming smile that Mary had ever seen plastered to her face. She ordered a blueberry muffin, then sat at Mary's table.

"Hi, I'm Mary Watson." the blonde held her hand out for the woman to shake. She looked confused for a fraction of a second, before grasping Mary's hand and shaking it firmly.

"Gwen." she supplied, still smiling. She pulled her hand away and started on her muffin.

"So," Mary began, "what brings you to London?" the woman's eyes briefly widened, mouth full of muffin. She swallowed it down and wiped the crumbs from her mouth, then replied.

"Weekend holiday, visiting family, all that. What about you?" her smile had faded considerably as she got more comfortable.

"I live here." there was a briefly awkward pause, "Are you here with your husband?" she smiled broadly at that, although it didn't quite meet her eyes.

"Yes, we're all here-" she caught herself on that last bit, but before she could amend herself, Mary probed.

"All?" Gwen's smile faded completely this time. She took a moment, looking down at her muffin as if enthralled by the confection, before replying.

"My husband, myself, and his... personal assistant." she smiled jovially at that, falsely. Mary didn't question that though.

"Do these people have names?" Gwen smiled and complied with the question without pause or protest.

"Arthur is my husband, his friend would be Martin." there was a barely noticeable hint of hesitation in her voice at saying the friend's name. Mary  _really_   wanted to know why, but she opted instead to ask a different question.

"I thought you said he was tutor husband's personal assistant?"

"Personally, but they're more like best friends." Gwen answered somewhat uncomfortably. Mary's brows rose in interest, and she was about to probe Gwen further, when they were interrupted by someone clearing their throat loudly, then exclaiming "Excuse me!" at their table. The red-head marched over to the two women, sitting in the third chair around the circular table, ordering nothing.

"Hiya, I wasn't given your names?" she held out her hand to Gwen, who confidently took it with a triumphant smile this time.

"I'm Gwen, and this is-"

"Mary Watson, how do?" she took the third woman's hand.

"Hi Mary, Gwen." she nodded to them both, "I'm Ginny Weasley."

"Oh! I've got a mate in Sheffield called Jenny!" Mary responded, the pale woman frowned slightly.

"I do come from Sheffield, but I'm not Jenny. My name's GINny.  _Gin_."

"Like the alcohol?" Mary replied sarcastically.

"Oi! Don't knock it, Gin and Tonic was my nickname all through uni, I'll have you know!" they both laughed. It seemed Ginny was more practised at small talk than Gwen, but there was something about her tone of voice when she said "uni". The assassin chose not to press.

"So, Gwen's here on holiday. Why are you in London today of all days?" Gwen had begun on her muffin again, content to watch and not participate in conversation.

"Oh, I actually live here now!" Mary made that "oh  _really_ _"_ face, you know which one, "Yeah! Me and Harry moved here not long after we got engaged! We still got married in Sheffield, though."

"Oh, lovely!" Mary knew who the Sherlock was in Gwen's marriage, but not Ginny's. Time to pry, "Where's your husband right now then?"

"Work. You know, office stuff. Nothing I really care all that much about. He doesn't really talk much about it anyway; although, he's actually thinking of going into teaching soon!"

"Really? My John would never have the patience for teaching. But, he has this mate who's a  _genius._  My daughter recently learned some basic biology from him, that she wouldn't have learned until at least year  _seven_! She's only four! It's incredible!"

"Oh my God! I pityher future teachers!"

"So do I!", Mary chuckled, "Anyway, if your husband doesn't talk about work, what normally occupies your conversations?"

"Well," Ginny rolled her eyes slightly, "I don't know how much  _your_  husband talks about this friend of his, but when Harry isn't talking about qu-rugby with my brother, it's his secondary school rival.  _God_ , he's  _obsessed_ with that man!"

" _Really?"_   Mary took a long sip of her coffee.  _Now_ we're getting somewhere.

"Oh yeah, never shuts up about him. _"Ginny, did you know Draco got a new job" "Ginny, did you know Draco got a divorce?" "Ginny, have you seen Draco's new haircut yet?"-_ " Mary held up her hand in interruption,

"Hold on, is that his  _name_?"

"His parents are these rich, aristocratic bootlickers and he's their  _Rebellious Son_." Mary chuckled, she thought herself and Ginny were going to get on splendidly.

Gwen put down her muffin for a moment, then spoke.

"My husband has never rebelled against his family. But I've reason to believe he would like to." then Ginny piped up,

"He a Lord or something?" She joked.

"I suppose." Came the vague response. Mary's turn,

"What makes you think he wants to "rebel" then?"

"His father was a tyrannical bigot with the face of a cat's rear end." Gwen replied calmly, picking at her muffin. Ginny caterwauled with laughter, and Mary spat her coffee all over the table. Gwen just smiled slightly and resumed eating the muffin.


	4. Head Quarters

They all decided to reconvene at Mary's the next day. John would be out on another case for most of it, anyway. Only Ginny showed up though; apparently, Gwen couldn't go. So Ginny was holding her phone up to Mary, Gwen's sunny face behind the screen, waving.

"Hi Gin... Gwen. Come on in." Ginny and the phone were lead inside and tea was made for the only humans physically present. Mary was reminded of a story she'd heard from John from before their marriage.

"Did you know that one day, before I met John, my husband's mate got a case quite a ways into the countryside. He did accept it, but he actually didn't rate it high enough in difficulty for him to bother actually being present. So my John had to drive himself and his laptop all the way up there so Sherlock could video chat with the police!" Ginny chuckled an "Oh my God!" as Mary re-entered the living room with two mugs, " _Then,_  John was picked up from the crime scene by a  _helicopter_ and taken to  _Buckingham Palace_  , where Sherlock was waiting for him on a settee in nothing but a  _sheet_ and the two of them just  _laughed_ about it!"

Both guests were laughing now, their wails cut short with a loud cry of something in the background. It was mostly interference but there was a clear word.

"Who's M-lin?" asked Ginny.

"Sorry," came Gwen's voice, "the signal's naff. That was my husband calling Martin," another shout, "Oh for  _God's sakes, Martin! See what he wants, I'm on the phone!"_ she paused, "Sorry about that, I wish Arthur wasn't so loud when he shouts, only ever with Martin, too." she shook her head, the action miniaturised by the screen. 

Ginny took a sip of her tea and muttered something like, "Your husband always shouting his name, then?" Mary choked on her swig of tea and Gwen didn't hear the red-head. So she just asked the two a question.

"So, ladies, what did you both do before you got married?" there was quite a pregnant pause (Mary would say the silence was having triplets), when Ginny spoke,

"Used to play professional rugby. Still do, actually. I love it too much to give it up." she looked to Mary, who gave her usual answer.

"Self employed, used to be a tailor. Always had very steady hands." then Gwen answered her own question.

"I was a maid, I quite liked the lady I worked for, actually. She once brought me flowers..." Ginny shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Then...

 _"M---in!!!!"_ Gwen rolled her eyes and Mary leaned over to get a better look at Ginny's phone. A wisp of a man with dark hair streaked past the screen, followed by a second, blonde-haired man with a face red from rage. Gwen turned to her husband.

"Everything alright, darling?" the blonde man (Arthur, presumably) stopped and turned to her, then to her phone. 

"Who are they?" he asked, jabbing his finger at the screen. Gwen smiled charmingly,

"Friends of mine."

"How did you get friends in London?"

"I met them at a coffee shop," she smiled again, "Say hello to Mary and Ginny, Arthur." the man frowned in thought but did as he was told. Ginny muttered something about him resembling a toddler. Mary tried not to giggle.

She then narrowly avoided a heart attack when the screen was suddenly filled with partial views of the face of the man before.

"Martin?" Ginny guessed. The man waved frantically, smiling like an idiot. Ginny and Mary shared a glance.

"Hello! You two must be Gwen's friends! I'm sorry if I can't remember your names..." Gwen leaned over and whispered into the dark-haired man's ear. He nodded, and suddenly had no trouble remembering their names.

The conversation was bland and mostly about how everyone was enjoying London, when Ginny swooped in.

"So, Martin, how long have you and Arthur known one another?" Arthur had long since left at this point, equally as bored as Mary had been but with half the manners. 

"Seven years." Christ.

"So, how long have Arthur and you known each other then?" Mary addressed Gwen. Martin answered.

"They only really got to know each other two years ago, they've been married for a number of months." the man (or was it more appropriate to call him boy?) smiled until it reached his eyes. Mary was caught quite off guard, but Ginny picked up the slack.

"I suppose you know him better than Gwen then?" the question was posed like a joke, but Martin nodded in agreement, "Oh."

_"M---in!"_

The man rolled his eyes and looked to Gwen, who shrugged. Then he got up, bowed his head to Gwen, and followed the yelling.

Ginny looked deep in thought. Then, as her and Mary heard what was presumably a door, shut, she asked Gwen a strange question.

"Gwen, do you know why you were put in contact with us?" there was a long pause in which Gwen looked blankly into the lens. Mary would've thought the connection timed out if she didn't blink.

"No." a pause, a resigned sigh "I only learned how to use a phone yesterday." her answers were clipped, but honest. Mary was thoroughly confused, but it wasn't enough for Ginny.

"How to use one? Or what it  _was_?" 

"Gin, I think that's taking it a bit far-" Mary was cut short by Gwen's head hanging low with guilt. She couldn't help it, she gaped like a bloody codfish!

"Wh-How-"

"Alright, so you're from the past. What century?" Mary was getting slightly frustrated at this point.

"Now hold on a minute, you can't just _assume_ -!" 

"He bowed to her." Ginny interrupted.

Wait. He  _did_ though, didn't he!?

"Sixth..." _Bloody hell!_

"Full name." Ginny demanded with an almost military tone that reminded Mary of comforting soldiers and protecting them from memories of war. Gwen sighed at last.

"Guinevere."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know one got flowers for the other, but I can't remember if Morgana or gwen gave the flowers to the other. Oops


	5. Martin's Beard

Ginny went bug-eyed, and remained affronted for longer than was strictly necessary. Mary laughed. Then she spotted a mug fly through the air behind the woman's head, then a dark-haired man walk into frame holding said mug in his spindly hand.

Arthur marched up to Martin and took a deep breath-

 _"MERLIN'S BEARD!"_   well, Mary's hearing wasn't recovering from that outburst any time soon. She turned to the redhead.

"Excuse you?" Ginny turned to her with adoration in her eyes. Gwen actually chuckled. Martin approached the camera looking quite alarmed and stroking his chin. Arthur arched his eyebrows so high they disappeared into his hairline.

Arthur. Guinevere. Merlin.

"Am I missing something?" and suddenly Ginny was on the  _phone_. On  _Mary's_ phone.

 

"Harry? Harry! You're never going to believe this! It's Merlin! The  _real Merlin!_ And Guinevere! And  _Arthur_ , Harry,  _Arthur_ _!_ " there was a pause, "What? No, Ron did NOT put me up to this. Actually he is! Hermione was right with her theory! He's so young, they both are! I wonder how he's gotten so powerful so young? Or if he's even that young at all? Maybe he has eternal youth or something... Harry, I'm being serious, trust me! Harry! Ha-" Ginny looked at Mary's phone screen, "Dickhead." she tossed it back to Mary.

She then got up, grabbed her coat and her bag, and moved to Mary's front door. The blonde was frozen, perplexed and ever so slightly miffed.

"Where are you going?" 

"To find Harry, and make him believe me." her voice was calm and controlled, but she was determined. Suddenly, Gwen's voice rang through Ginny's speakers.

"Your phone!" Ginny patted her pockets, then swiped the device from Mary's still stunned grip, "And we still don't know why we're here! Shouldn't we be answering  _that_ question first?" Ginny just gave Gwen a look of apology and hung up. Then, after placing her phone back in her bag, she swept out of the door. It took a moment for Mary's brain to kickstart itself, but soon the housewife/assassin took to her feet, grabbing her things, and ran out of her door. Ginny was hailing a taxi. Mary waved at the driver, paging him to wait. Then she approached the vehicle, stopping the door with her hand.

"Ginny," she gasped out, panting from her haste, she met the redhead's eyes, "There's no such thing as Merlin."

Ginny scowled, grabbed Mary's forearm with a terrifying grip, and swung her into the car. She shut the door with a sharp thunk and the car set off for...some random flat in London belonging to a mad woman who believes in Arthurian legend.

_Here we go._


	6. It Stings My Lightning Scar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny's flat.

Eventually the taxi pulled up to a block of flats about 20 minutes from the coffee shop. Ginny leapt out of the car (still holding Mary's wrist, now in significant pain), and paid the driver.

She then stomped Mary up 4 flights of stairs ("We don't have time for the lift."), and marched up to flat number 314. Ginny finally let go of the blonde's arm to hammer on the door.

"Open up, four eyes!" She barked through the mail slot. They waited.

Soon, feet were heard pattering across carpet, until they reached the door. The latches rattled, and so did a set of keys, then the door opened. This man looked like he rolled out of bed and down the stairs to let them in. His grey t-shirt was creased and his blue-striped pyjama bottoms had a large ketchup stain on the thigh. His round glasses were askew and barely covered his puffy, squinting blue eyes, and my  _God, his hair_! Mary didn't think it was _possible_ for hair to stick up in so many directions.

And yet...

"Whassit, Gin?" Harry asked his wife. Ginny scowled.

"You called me a liar." Harry suddenly looked very afraid, his eyes gaining new life, before he let both women inside.

* * *

"Listen, Ginny..."

"I'm  _not_ a liar, _Harry._ "

Tea had been made, and Mary sat in physical comfort on they're plush setee. Emotionally, she'd never been more out of her depth.

"Ginny, look, Merlin is _dead_. There isn't a wizard in history who has achieved immortality without the use of horcruxes, or the Hallows. But neither of those were _available_ in the sixth century."

"Don't you think I  _know_ that?" She sighed, "And take that bloody glamour off your forehead, it's disturbing."

With a huff, Harry waved his wand (yes, wand) and a lightning-shaped scar appeared on his forehead. 

"She doesn't seem to be reacting well to the whole "magic exists" thing, does she?" Harry inquired, referring to Mary's acutely obvious existential crisis.

"Have I been drugged?" She wondered aloud, "was this whole thing a set up and now I've been drugged?" She looked hopefully up to the magical couple standing above her.

They only raised an eyebrow each at her while shaking their heads. Mary heaved a sigh.

"Fine. I'm used to weird- not _this_ brand of weird, mind you, but still..."

This seemed to satisfy Ginny, who immediately fished her phone out of her pocket and dialled a number.

" _Ginny?"_ answered Gwen. She was on skype again. Ginny angled the phone so Mary and Harry could see, before speaking.

"Can we talk to Merlin please?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stand-alone update is stand-alone 👌


End file.
